What do you think?
Rate this book
Gender/Fucking: The Pleasures and Politics of Living in a Gendered Body
Featuring critical essays, erotica, and stitched-up memories, Gender/Fucking explores sexual arousal as a site of knowledge about the self and world.
Taking the idea of intellectual masturbation a bit too literally, Florence Ashley draws on their experiences as a transfeminine activist, academic, and slut to interrogate what it means to live in a gendered body in our difficult yet occasionally loving world. With personal essays about the fetishization of trans bodies, recovering from surgery, and losing hope, Florence’s collection celebrates the queer messiness of sex and identity.
Through the embrace of its raw and lyrical prose, Gender/Fucking invites the reader into the intimate world of academic smut to ask what it means to be horny on main in a sex-negative world—and what power it might hold.
Taking the idea of intellectual masturbation a bit too literally, Florence Ashley draws on their experiences as a transfeminine activist, academic, and slut to interrogate what it means to live in a gendered body in our difficult yet occasionally loving world. With personal essays about the fetishization of trans bodies, recovering from surgery, and losing hope, Florence’s collection celebrates the queer messiness of sex and identity.
Through the embrace of its raw and lyrical prose, Gender/Fucking invites the reader into the intimate world of academic smut to ask what it means to be horny on main in a sex-negative world—and what power it might hold.
160 pages, Paperback
Published February 13, 2024
51 people are currently reading
862 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 62 reviews
June 23, 2024
Smart, informative, and endlessly entertaining: This compendium by law professor, academic and activist Florence Ashley combines socially relevant essays with smut and philosophy with memoir. The author starts from the assumption that we should overcome the strict separation between body and mind, because the body can hold important information, and sexuality is a site of knowledge: "Some truths can only be told through the erotic", as “the erotic is embodiment, feeling.” In different text forms, they go on to explore the relationship between sex, gender, and politics. In an interview, the author explains: "If we’re ashamed of our sexualities, of having bodies with needs and desires, we’re easier to control and exploit" - so true.
Ashley's book does talk about transphobia, but also about queer joy, and for a cis het woman like me, it was extremely insightful to read about their experiences, which, as the texts show, are of course relatable to all people living in a body.
Very unusual and disruptively challenging how we talk about gender/sex, and I hope Ashley will write some more books.
Ashley's book does talk about transphobia, but also about queer joy, and for a cis het woman like me, it was extremely insightful to read about their experiences, which, as the texts show, are of course relatable to all people living in a body.
Very unusual and disruptively challenging how we talk about gender/sex, and I hope Ashley will write some more books.
February 22, 2024
Like talking to a therapist who knows all about Trans Trauma, but also the therapist is a slut who won't stop telling you smutty stories.
March 19, 2024
As a trans person in the United States I’ve been feeling pretty hopeless about our prospects for the future if November 2024 goes badly. Florence talks about activism for a doomed world as palliative care: maybe we can’t save the world, but we can still reduce suffering. Some part of me still wants to save the world, but in those moments I can’t now just the reduction of suffering is enough to keep me going - and that’s exactly what I needed right now.
And if you’re a trans person reading this in the future, whatever has happened: “…what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.”
And if you’re a trans person reading this in the future, whatever has happened: “…what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.”
February 26, 2024
I read this in less than a day, having failed to recognize my thirst to read something about the trans experience that is corporeal and erotic but also resonates with the emotional reality of living in a trans body.
Much of academic queer theory feels divorced from lived experience, and is abstracted to the point of annihilating the queer voice and self. This book is an exception. It addresses the conflicts, hurt, and heartbreak we experience in navigating intimacy. But it deals humour in equal measure (I laughed out loud several times), and it conveys the joy of being trans.
10/10 would recommend. (Gay trans man writing this review, for reference.)
Much of academic queer theory feels divorced from lived experience, and is abstracted to the point of annihilating the queer voice and self. This book is an exception. It addresses the conflicts, hurt, and heartbreak we experience in navigating intimacy. But it deals humour in equal measure (I laughed out loud several times), and it conveys the joy of being trans.
10/10 would recommend. (Gay trans man writing this review, for reference.)
March 4, 2024
Transition changes so many things, unexpectedly.
It changes our relationship with our bodies, and the way we use those bodies with others. It's a process of self-discovery, often exciting, sometimes physically and emotionally painful. Florence's... memoir? Collection of stories? Both? - is sometimes very raw, often very sexy (flat-out enmoistening, in fact). My own story is not the same, but I can relate to every word of this. Many trans people, I think, will feel the same. Many cis people, I think, will learn something.
And I'm definitely calling my remodel "vaginomancy" from now on.
It changes our relationship with our bodies, and the way we use those bodies with others. It's a process of self-discovery, often exciting, sometimes physically and emotionally painful. Florence's... memoir? Collection of stories? Both? - is sometimes very raw, often very sexy (flat-out enmoistening, in fact). My own story is not the same, but I can relate to every word of this. Many trans people, I think, will feel the same. Many cis people, I think, will learn something.
And I'm definitely calling my remodel "vaginomancy" from now on.
March 4, 2024
Like a bottom who loves to toggle between bimbo mode and supergenius mode with little to no warning, Gender/Fucking is variously mesmerizing, challenging, playful and sexy. You will be intrigued. You will laugh (hard). You will cry (hard). You will shake your fist at God. Depending on which chapter you're reading, you will either play with yourself or have a full existential crisis at two in the morning.
February 21, 2024
This book has both MCR and Vine references, but is also an amazing look at gender, sex, bodies, and the trans experience through a mix of academic writing and smut.
Florence Ashley manages to be funny, irreverent, and heartbreaking through this book about identity and how one interacts with the world in a body that is gendered, and how our perceptions of gender shape our lives. I love seeing sex and smut scenes by trans people about trans bodies in a way that’s unapologetic, authentic, and non-fetishizing, while also functioning as queer theory. Definitely a favourite of the year so far!
Florence Ashley manages to be funny, irreverent, and heartbreaking through this book about identity and how one interacts with the world in a body that is gendered, and how our perceptions of gender shape our lives. I love seeing sex and smut scenes by trans people about trans bodies in a way that’s unapologetic, authentic, and non-fetishizing, while also functioning as queer theory. Definitely a favourite of the year so far!
March 22, 2024
To be clear, this book is not about "The Pleasures and Politics of Living in a Gendered Body" but rather "The Pleasures of Politics of Living in the Author's Gendered Body".
I was surprised to find that I recognised very little of the author's experiences in my own experiences of being trans, nor did it match with many of the trans folks I'm close to. It often feels hyper-specific to one path of being trans.
I would have loved something a bit more researched, a bit more broad in thinking about trans bodies and their journeys in both pleasure and politics. As it was, I had to read through sexual interests and kinks, few of which I shared, in hopes of finding a view into the broader trans experience. In some sense, you might get this as a reader because you're reading another trans person's journey that might be very different than your own.
Unfortunately, there are periods in the book where trans people and trans bodies are objectified and deconstructed in ways that lose the depth of meaning of being trans. Much like deconstructing a bed into its parts makes it difficult to sleep on, trans-ness doesn't make any sense when deconstructed in this way.
There are also times where the author lets you know as a reader that you are less-than and beneath them, which I definitely did not appreciate. In one section, they explain that they won't date baby trans folks. Reducing a trans person to the length of time they've been trans, ignoring all their other value, felt dehumanising and gross.
The punchline by the end feels unripe and callow. There is no exploration of sex and love, of sex and the journey of emotional maturation, or of sex and the relationship to bonding and constructing stability. It treats sex as an instrument of pleasure and misses its other uses.
Perhaps their later work will grow to incorporate these aspects? One can only hope.
I was surprised to find that I recognised very little of the author's experiences in my own experiences of being trans, nor did it match with many of the trans folks I'm close to. It often feels hyper-specific to one path of being trans.
I would have loved something a bit more researched, a bit more broad in thinking about trans bodies and their journeys in both pleasure and politics. As it was, I had to read through sexual interests and kinks, few of which I shared, in hopes of finding a view into the broader trans experience. In some sense, you might get this as a reader because you're reading another trans person's journey that might be very different than your own.
Unfortunately, there are periods in the book where trans people and trans bodies are objectified and deconstructed in ways that lose the depth of meaning of being trans. Much like deconstructing a bed into its parts makes it difficult to sleep on, trans-ness doesn't make any sense when deconstructed in this way.
There are also times where the author lets you know as a reader that you are less-than and beneath them, which I definitely did not appreciate. In one section, they explain that they won't date baby trans folks. Reducing a trans person to the length of time they've been trans, ignoring all their other value, felt dehumanising and gross.
The punchline by the end feels unripe and callow. There is no exploration of sex and love, of sex and the journey of emotional maturation, or of sex and the relationship to bonding and constructing stability. It treats sex as an instrument of pleasure and misses its other uses.
Perhaps their later work will grow to incorporate these aspects? One can only hope.
May 27, 2024
A demonstration of (capital-N, lower-case-o) optimistic Nihilism, "Gender/Fucking" is a powerful and insightful exploration of Ashley's experiences as a transgender individual. Tremendous stubbornness in the face of aggression from every conceivable angle is what makes Florence's writing honest and the conclusion (Bleak? Hopeful?) ... subject to your own brain chemistry.
This book offers a lens into the complexities of transgender issues, via anecdote and self-reflection, on the challenges transgender people face. Florence's unflinching, accurate writing style provides a raw perspective that is astoundingly familiar, in its highs and lows, even when it shouldn't.
The rawness and authenticity of the narrative are both its strength and its source of discomfort. Florence delves into the emotional and psychological landscapes of transgender existence with an intensity that demands the reader's attention and empathy. The stories shared are not just personal but resonate with broader social implications, making the book not only a memoir but also a call to action.
Despite being a page-turner, "Gender/Fucking" is not an easy read. It's a challenging, sometimes harrowing journey through the realities of transgender life. Yet, it is precisely this challenge that makes it an essential read. Florence does not sugarcoat their experiences; they present them in all their unvarnished truth, compelling readers to confront uncomfortable realities and refocus their attention.
"Gender/Fucking" is a testament to resilience and authenticity. It is a book that, once read, leaves a lasting impact, prompting reflection long after the final page is turned. For anyone seeking to understand the transgender experience more deeply, Florence's work is indispensable.
This book offers a lens into the complexities of transgender issues, via anecdote and self-reflection, on the challenges transgender people face. Florence's unflinching, accurate writing style provides a raw perspective that is astoundingly familiar, in its highs and lows, even when it shouldn't.
The rawness and authenticity of the narrative are both its strength and its source of discomfort. Florence delves into the emotional and psychological landscapes of transgender existence with an intensity that demands the reader's attention and empathy. The stories shared are not just personal but resonate with broader social implications, making the book not only a memoir but also a call to action.
Despite being a page-turner, "Gender/Fucking" is not an easy read. It's a challenging, sometimes harrowing journey through the realities of transgender life. Yet, it is precisely this challenge that makes it an essential read. Florence does not sugarcoat their experiences; they present them in all their unvarnished truth, compelling readers to confront uncomfortable realities and refocus their attention.
"Gender/Fucking" is a testament to resilience and authenticity. It is a book that, once read, leaves a lasting impact, prompting reflection long after the final page is turned. For anyone seeking to understand the transgender experience more deeply, Florence's work is indispensable.
April 27, 2024
TLDR: If you're invested in trans liberation and have ever been the least bit horny, "Gender/Fucking" is for you. On social media, the author described this volume as using theory to trick people into erotica and using erotica to trick people into using theory, and just .... yes. It certainly is the only theory-adjacent book I could imagine myself reading for pleasure while I also work on my dissertation. From essays on T4T relationships and the politics of desirability, to the experience of gender-affirming surgery and how that can shape your relationship to sexuality, to navigating power and sex, "Gender/Fucking" is intellectually engaging and just fun (though sometimes challenging) to read. For example, there's poetry at the start of each chapter and I mean. Yeah, the sex! One of the many insights is the need to put the sex back in sexuality studies, which as a soon-to-be tenure-track faculty member, makes me think about both my positionality and my pedagogy. I'll be teaching a course on health inequalities and could imagine including 1-2 of these chapters in my syllabus.
April 15, 2024
I can't figure out how to say this in a non-dickish way, but I think I would enjoy hanging out with the author and hearing them discuss these topics more than I enjoyed reading the book as a whole. many of the pieces would make excellent live rants (affectionate) over drinks, complete with body language and tone of voice and interpersonal interaction. that isn't a dig at the book. I would just like to experience the words in another setting. the tone hits off sometimes on the page in ways I think would be super charming live. but a book is what I read and it's an impressive work!
some of the pieces I liked a lot (the surgical diary, the merfolk smut). some of the pieces I disliked strongly (the apocalypse chapter felt extremely... white... to me). I think the format of the book is clever as fuck, if pretty destabilizing to read (in a cool way). I as an audience of one would have benefitted from knowing there was a sex scene with razor blades and blood before I read it (bad for my brain and nervous system!!!).
genderfuck is an old term and I'm an old genderqueer and so I had misplaced expectations of what the book would be about. it is primarily a very personal account of one transfeminine experience of life through the lens of different gender identities and body configurations, and also a series of first-person erotic vignettes. it's not right to say they're interspersed exactly, since some pieces have both elements and some are district. the book does not discuss genderfuck at all in the older sense of the term; the title is a pun.
I don't think I have anything particularly smart to say about the book. mostly I really appreciate the author's perspective. we have had very different experiences of being nonbinary trans people and that's super cool to read about. trans authors writing for trans audiences is rad as hell. also this book inspired me to hex Janice Raymond. will report back.
some of the pieces I liked a lot (the surgical diary, the merfolk smut). some of the pieces I disliked strongly (the apocalypse chapter felt extremely... white... to me). I think the format of the book is clever as fuck, if pretty destabilizing to read (in a cool way). I as an audience of one would have benefitted from knowing there was a sex scene with razor blades and blood before I read it (bad for my brain and nervous system!!!).
genderfuck is an old term and I'm an old genderqueer and so I had misplaced expectations of what the book would be about. it is primarily a very personal account of one transfeminine experience of life through the lens of different gender identities and body configurations, and also a series of first-person erotic vignettes. it's not right to say they're interspersed exactly, since some pieces have both elements and some are district. the book does not discuss genderfuck at all in the older sense of the term; the title is a pun.
I don't think I have anything particularly smart to say about the book. mostly I really appreciate the author's perspective. we have had very different experiences of being nonbinary trans people and that's super cool to read about. trans authors writing for trans audiences is rad as hell. also this book inspired me to hex Janice Raymond. will report back.
February 19, 2024
This is a wonderful series of deeply personal essays, stories, poems, etc. that I think everyone could benefit from reading.
February 2, 2024
A deeply engaging mix of poetry, essays, memoirs, and erotica. The book is, in my opinion, intentionally and beautifully messy, because life is messy.
Real life hardly ever provides you with nice neat narratives that perfectly fit genre conventions and have a tidy ending.
I think this book captures some of the messiness of reality. Joy mixes freely with anxiety and old trauma. The book contains well-thought out intellectual arguments, but it never let's you forget the visceral importance of your body and everything it experiences.
Real life hardly ever provides you with nice neat narratives that perfectly fit genre conventions and have a tidy ending.
I think this book captures some of the messiness of reality. Joy mixes freely with anxiety and old trauma. The book contains well-thought out intellectual arguments, but it never let's you forget the visceral importance of your body and everything it experiences.
May 28, 2024
An beautiful piece of academic smut that reframes the trans experience as erotic, embodied, one of untapped power and deeper access to what it truly means to be human.
Read
August 28, 2024My favorite part of this book is Ashley’s use of language. Mixing erudite academic prose with crass slang and texting abbreviations, she casts both styles in a new light. Ashley’s style is a mirror to the types of rebellion she champions.
According to her, the embodied knowledge we gain from our most vivid selves is only accepted in so-called polite society once intellectualized beyond recognition. In order to challenge the need for such translation, we must embrace the messiness of our experiences. This includes understanding concepts like palliative activism, embodiment as sometimes non consensual, and the double bind hypersexualization creates.
A fun sexy insightful read. I recommend it if you like reading smut, are curious about the embodied trans experience, or need some kinky theory in your life.
According to her, the embodied knowledge we gain from our most vivid selves is only accepted in so-called polite society once intellectualized beyond recognition. In order to challenge the need for such translation, we must embrace the messiness of our experiences. This includes understanding concepts like palliative activism, embodiment as sometimes non consensual, and the double bind hypersexualization creates.
A fun sexy insightful read. I recommend it if you like reading smut, are curious about the embodied trans experience, or need some kinky theory in your life.
March 16, 2024
This was a book unlike anything I've ever read. A collection of essays, poems, personal accounts, and academic insight - all tinged with the erotic. Florence Ashley is a gifted writer with a fantastic sense of humor, and an uncanny ability for showing vulnerability. The blurb on the back called this book, paraphrasing, intellectual masturbation taken literally. And while that's true in a comedic sense - there's intellectualism and there's masturbation - it's also untrue because these stories, these thoughts and experiences, need to be told. Highly recommend this book to both cis and trans folks alike, and I'll be looking out for more from this author!
March 30, 2025
Even if the revolution never comes, liberal reformism cannot be squared with the materialism of palliative activism. A wish for life, not formalities, not rights for the rich marginals. And besides, you and I both know that there is no fun in kissing up to the powers that be. Their asses aren't that soft. Pleasure lies in the fight. May the bridges we burn offer warmth and comfort—we must imagine Sisyphus happy.
March 16, 2024
As a trans woman reading parts of this I would nod my head sagely and think "oh yes, that's how it is." And then other sections would be hot and steamy. And then I'm laughing. And then I want to be cuddling with my partners and for us to be doing all sorts of delightful things with each other.
October 1, 2024
inspired to be more horny on main
March 30, 2024
Hot theory and a useful concept. Great example of radical love
August 20, 2024
Intellectually and physically stimulating, Ashley delves deeper into the nitty-gritty of having a body, a trans-feminine body, than I've ever seen. They talk about our bodies, how they connect to our (lack of) humanity when humanity is a judgement made by others, and how we exist in the monstrous without it. Highly recommended to any trans-fem reader, or a reader wanting to better understand the experience of being trans-feminine.
September 29, 2024
This book healed something in me.
May 31, 2024
Wow!! Florence Ashley's "intellectual masturbation", their "love letter to messiness" is incredible! This book blends the erotic, the academic, and the gender/fuck together beautifully.
October 23, 2024
100/10! I have sooooo many sticky notes and highlighted pages throughout my copy. A perfect mixture of important topics and personal stories. Will be reading again!
February 11, 2024
Wow, wow, WOW— this is a book that invites you, the reader, not only to learn but also to EXPLORE— it's a patchwork quilt of memoirs, erotic interludes, and critical analysis, and it's gripping and devastating at every turn. Florence Ashley, a transfem jurist and bioethicist, is a brilliant writer with a penchant for luscious prose and biting commentary. This collection is equally brilliant, introducing the concept of "academic smut" as a vehicle for telling stories of love, loss, growth, and tragedy against a backdrop of trans identity and intellectualism. As a nonbinary person, I found myself represented in living color on every page; reading this collection left me tear-stained and devastated, and yet immeasurably hopeful at the same time. It's a storytelling format I could never have predicted enjoying, as I'm rather open about not enjoying erotica as a written genre (with the exception of fanfiction!) due to my own discomfort with first-person-POV sex— however, the erotica here DOES something. It gives a tangible example of the theories and thought-processes that Florence describes in each chapter; it gives the reader an opportunity to imagine sexual dynamics playing out not only in front of them but with them in the driver's seat, and again— as someone whose queer activities echo some of Florence's own, it was deeply eye-opening to see myself and my desires on paper that exposes the pleasure, shame, and possibilities that we all partake in.
In particular, I'm drawn to one phrase that Florence concludes with in their "Trespass on the Fox" essay: these are questions without answers. am i open to being loved, to being lovable? maybe. Upon reading that, I had to sit and stare blankly at the wall for a time I can't begin to measure. Not only for the raw questioning of how I exist in regards to love, but for the openness in stating that these words, and all the words in Florence's collection, do not exist to serve as definitive answers of, well, pretty much anything! I've spent the past 18 years of my life entrenched in academia, and the idea that I don't have to always answer "yes" or "no" when asked about my "take" on something isn't necessarily foreign, but it's under-represented in nonfiction works, and it was a breath of fresh air to see it so frankly discussed here.
Though I am hesitant to describe any essay in detail, as I do truly think each entry deserves to be experienced firsthand, I want to conclude my review with an analysis of "Libidinal Vertigo," one of two essays that Florence warns about in their Preface for their potentially-triggering material. It's a deeply unsettling essay for two reasons: one, it discusses famed (or, rather, infamous) TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminists) scholars like Mary Daly in detail, and their works are ones that have caused me a lot of personal strife as well; two, it explores Florence's (and that of all transfem folx) vulnerability to the very same transphobic rhetoric that most of us wish was contained solely in now-fading academic texts. We (and I use this word here confidently, despite existing not as a transfem person as AFAB and nonbinary) are all deeply susceptible to the internalized transphobia that runs rampant across our social media threads and bathroom-sink conversations. Florence, in protest of Janice Raymond's vitriol, invites us to embrace our monstrosity... echoing a brilliant passage of poetry discussing Frankenstein many pages prior. If they cast us as monsters, without giving us a chance to recite our lines, then perhaps we should acknowledge our hatred— and use it as fuel to empower healing amongst our own.
I cannot put into words how much I recommend this collection; it deserves to be immortalized in the canon of transgender studies, and it also deserves to be passed around amongst friends and highlighted and annotated to no end, the pages themselves becoming a living museum of memory and community. Whether you are trans, cis, or beginning your own journey of self-discovery, this book is a light amongst a sea of uncertainty and darkness, and I highly encourage you to pick up a copy of your own.
Note: I receive a gifted ARC from Clash Books; as always, I was under no obligation to leave a review, and all my thoughts/ramblings are my own <3
In particular, I'm drawn to one phrase that Florence concludes with in their "Trespass on the Fox" essay: these are questions without answers. am i open to being loved, to being lovable? maybe. Upon reading that, I had to sit and stare blankly at the wall for a time I can't begin to measure. Not only for the raw questioning of how I exist in regards to love, but for the openness in stating that these words, and all the words in Florence's collection, do not exist to serve as definitive answers of, well, pretty much anything! I've spent the past 18 years of my life entrenched in academia, and the idea that I don't have to always answer "yes" or "no" when asked about my "take" on something isn't necessarily foreign, but it's under-represented in nonfiction works, and it was a breath of fresh air to see it so frankly discussed here.
Though I am hesitant to describe any essay in detail, as I do truly think each entry deserves to be experienced firsthand, I want to conclude my review with an analysis of "Libidinal Vertigo," one of two essays that Florence warns about in their Preface for their potentially-triggering material. It's a deeply unsettling essay for two reasons: one, it discusses famed (or, rather, infamous) TERF (trans-exclusionary radical feminists) scholars like Mary Daly in detail, and their works are ones that have caused me a lot of personal strife as well; two, it explores Florence's (and that of all transfem folx) vulnerability to the very same transphobic rhetoric that most of us wish was contained solely in now-fading academic texts. We (and I use this word here confidently, despite existing not as a transfem person as AFAB and nonbinary) are all deeply susceptible to the internalized transphobia that runs rampant across our social media threads and bathroom-sink conversations. Florence, in protest of Janice Raymond's vitriol, invites us to embrace our monstrosity... echoing a brilliant passage of poetry discussing Frankenstein many pages prior. If they cast us as monsters, without giving us a chance to recite our lines, then perhaps we should acknowledge our hatred— and use it as fuel to empower healing amongst our own.
I cannot put into words how much I recommend this collection; it deserves to be immortalized in the canon of transgender studies, and it also deserves to be passed around amongst friends and highlighted and annotated to no end, the pages themselves becoming a living museum of memory and community. Whether you are trans, cis, or beginning your own journey of self-discovery, this book is a light amongst a sea of uncertainty and darkness, and I highly encourage you to pick up a copy of your own.
Note: I receive a gifted ARC from Clash Books; as always, I was under no obligation to leave a review, and all my thoughts/ramblings are my own <3
February 18, 2024
Florence Ashley is a transfeminine law professor, ethicist, and (as virtually all publicly visible trans folks are forced to be) an activist. Rather than a dry review in the style of an academic journal, I'd like to provide a more personal report.
This book aroused me, laid bare my trauma, and rang a bell deep in my soul. I’ve never felt so seen. Their erotic tales resonated with my own encounters. Their poetry remains with me still, days later. And their analyses? They may very literally change the course of my life.
Ashley's account of the way trauma informs their adoption of the role of bottom in their sexual encounters revealed to me my own, similar journey. Now I have weeks or months of material to work through with my therapist -- maybe at the end of it, I'll come out on Top?
Their description of their experiences navigating dating, the internalized homophobia of cis men, and our own internalized compulsory heterosexuality have me setting off on another journey of self-discovery, one concerning my sexual orientation. And their brilliant dissection of the ways in which TERF rhetoric and transphobia corrupts even the most self-assured transfemme's sense of self is all-too-familiarly heartbreaking. Many times in reading this book, I had to put it down to sob and hold myself, waiting for the reignited trauma to pass. Unlike other times when old trauma is triggered, however, these episodes feel like healing.
Finally, Ashley's account of what is to be done in their final chapter shook me to my core. As someone who once waved the flag of revolutionary socialism myself, I saw my own loss of hope reflected in Ashley's words. Rather than adopting a nihilism, however, they propose a palliative activism. We cannot save this world, circling the drain as it is. We cannot undo the rampant spread of transphobia, certainly not any time soon, if ever. Captialism has won. What we can do, however, is put our world in hospice and try to alleviate the suffering of our loved ones and our communities as much as possible, bringing some peace and pleasure to those we love, while the world slowly dies around us. This is the ideology I have been looking for. And if we adopt this palliative model, despite the horrors around us, we can imagine our loved ones, and ourselves, happy.
Ashley's influences are clear. References to previous trans writers, gender theorists, and philosophers abound, but they present them and connect them in profound and revolutionary ways. Or palliative ways, perhaps?
In sum, this book could change your life. It changed mine.
This book aroused me, laid bare my trauma, and rang a bell deep in my soul. I’ve never felt so seen. Their erotic tales resonated with my own encounters. Their poetry remains with me still, days later. And their analyses? They may very literally change the course of my life.
Ashley's account of the way trauma informs their adoption of the role of bottom in their sexual encounters revealed to me my own, similar journey. Now I have weeks or months of material to work through with my therapist -- maybe at the end of it, I'll come out on Top?
Their description of their experiences navigating dating, the internalized homophobia of cis men, and our own internalized compulsory heterosexuality have me setting off on another journey of self-discovery, one concerning my sexual orientation. And their brilliant dissection of the ways in which TERF rhetoric and transphobia corrupts even the most self-assured transfemme's sense of self is all-too-familiarly heartbreaking. Many times in reading this book, I had to put it down to sob and hold myself, waiting for the reignited trauma to pass. Unlike other times when old trauma is triggered, however, these episodes feel like healing.
Finally, Ashley's account of what is to be done in their final chapter shook me to my core. As someone who once waved the flag of revolutionary socialism myself, I saw my own loss of hope reflected in Ashley's words. Rather than adopting a nihilism, however, they propose a palliative activism. We cannot save this world, circling the drain as it is. We cannot undo the rampant spread of transphobia, certainly not any time soon, if ever. Captialism has won. What we can do, however, is put our world in hospice and try to alleviate the suffering of our loved ones and our communities as much as possible, bringing some peace and pleasure to those we love, while the world slowly dies around us. This is the ideology I have been looking for. And if we adopt this palliative model, despite the horrors around us, we can imagine our loved ones, and ourselves, happy.
Ashley's influences are clear. References to previous trans writers, gender theorists, and philosophers abound, but they present them and connect them in profound and revolutionary ways. Or palliative ways, perhaps?
In sum, this book could change your life. It changed mine.
June 22, 2025
The title and description of this book is pretty misleading, as it gives the impression of a broader, more academic sexual overview of trans bodies sprinkled with personal anecdote. What it actually is is one transfemme person's life in a sort of refined diary, and a bunch of theory that often gets "lost in the sauce". For example, I had no idea what was happening in the Oedipus complex section because it was so abstract/divorced from any familiar trans experience and had to reread it a few times.
One aspect that grinded my gears was the referring of T4T relationships as exclusively feminine and lesbian, completely ignoring the existence of transmasculine people. "Trans people" as a broader phrase and referential concept might as well have been ctrl+F replaced with "trans femmes", since being trans in general was equated to womanhood. The mentioned dateable categories explicitly mentioned for the author in the beginning were trans women, cis women, and cis men, before the merman section. The merman was known to the reader as trans only by the presence of his "dickclit". The fact the singular transmasculine experience mentioned could only be alluded to in fantasy rather than be a real life person with similar gendered body struggles was pretty unsettling. The words/language of trans masculine, trans male, or non-cis man in any form is not in the book even once.
I by no means think trans men should have to be part of the author's personal work on their transfemme experience, but the title/description combined with their complete absence created a noticeably exclusionary read in some sections. The author seems to present a very narrow view of transition and puts their blinders on for any differing ideological experience.
One section I really enjoyed was the gnarly descriptions of recovering from vaginoplasty. Though I haven't had vaginoplasty, it aligned with my own experience of genital surgery I almost never see mentioned in media. I also appreciated their deconstruction of feelings after sexual assault and talking to the abuser, especially feeling guilty. Though some of the descriptions were hard to get through, I appreciated that section. There were several other points I related to surrounding surgery and violence.
I'm happy I read this if only to give myself a broader perspective of transition from other angles. I think a transfeminine person who pursues a more traditional surgical route would get more out of it than me.
One aspect that grinded my gears was the referring of T4T relationships as exclusively feminine and lesbian, completely ignoring the existence of transmasculine people. "Trans people" as a broader phrase and referential concept might as well have been ctrl+F replaced with "trans femmes", since being trans in general was equated to womanhood. The mentioned dateable categories explicitly mentioned for the author in the beginning were trans women, cis women, and cis men, before the merman section. The merman was known to the reader as trans only by the presence of his "dickclit". The fact the singular transmasculine experience mentioned could only be alluded to in fantasy rather than be a real life person with similar gendered body struggles was pretty unsettling. The words/language of trans masculine, trans male, or non-cis man in any form is not in the book even once.
I by no means think trans men should have to be part of the author's personal work on their transfemme experience, but the title/description combined with their complete absence created a noticeably exclusionary read in some sections. The author seems to present a very narrow view of transition and puts their blinders on for any differing ideological experience.
One section I really enjoyed was the gnarly descriptions of recovering from vaginoplasty. Though I haven't had vaginoplasty, it aligned with my own experience of genital surgery I almost never see mentioned in media. I also appreciated their deconstruction of feelings after sexual assault and talking to the abuser, especially feeling guilty. Though some of the descriptions were hard to get through, I appreciated that section. There were several other points I related to surrounding surgery and violence.
I'm happy I read this if only to give myself a broader perspective of transition from other angles. I think a transfeminine person who pursues a more traditional surgical route would get more out of it than me.
June 26, 2024
A lot of little things about this bothered me too much for me to enjoy it as much as I expected to, mainly in the second half.
Some of it is that this book isn't for me-- I need more firm of a point or a message in my nonfiction and essay collections rather than the meandering to be the point-- but towards the end the lack of knowledge of their privilege confused me and made me appreciate the insight less. Specifically, how they outline the idea of facing violence for their sexuality in the workplace and in academia at large due to how people of color get barred out of institutions for similar online eroticism. At no point in the essay about that is the racial disparity mentioned as a possible difference, and instead the threat is framed as equally a risk to them as to the people who have already faced it in a racialized context.
Additionally, how they frame dom/sub dynamics and consent violations rubbed me the wrong way. The idea that a bad dom can traumatize while a bad sub cannot is just completely off-base. This idea is used again later to deconstruct some of the authors internalized transmisogyny surrounding sex roles, but at no point is the idea that subs are just as capable of sexual harm mentioned during this essay. I kept waiting for it to come up again, but it didn't, and that really bothers me! Bad subs are coercive and push or break boundaries and hurt doms all the time!
All that said, I loved places in this collection where reality vs narrative was played with-- specifically when they talk about recovery from bottom surgery and retelling the story of their assault. That toying with perspective and reliability of a narrative was really cool. I also always live to hear trans people talk about their relationship to being t4t even if I don't relate to their reasoning, so the meditation on transamory and chaserism and t4t was really interesting.
I overall really recommend this to people who like experimentalish prose / memoir, but don't go into it expecting an essay collection you're used to.
(They used per the bio in the back of the book, sorry if that's an outdated pronoun set)
Some of it is that this book isn't for me-- I need more firm of a point or a message in my nonfiction and essay collections rather than the meandering to be the point-- but towards the end the lack of knowledge of their privilege confused me and made me appreciate the insight less. Specifically, how they outline the idea of facing violence for their sexuality in the workplace and in academia at large due to how people of color get barred out of institutions for similar online eroticism. At no point in the essay about that is the racial disparity mentioned as a possible difference, and instead the threat is framed as equally a risk to them as to the people who have already faced it in a racialized context.
Additionally, how they frame dom/sub dynamics and consent violations rubbed me the wrong way. The idea that a bad dom can traumatize while a bad sub cannot is just completely off-base. This idea is used again later to deconstruct some of the authors internalized transmisogyny surrounding sex roles, but at no point is the idea that subs are just as capable of sexual harm mentioned during this essay. I kept waiting for it to come up again, but it didn't, and that really bothers me! Bad subs are coercive and push or break boundaries and hurt doms all the time!
All that said, I loved places in this collection where reality vs narrative was played with-- specifically when they talk about recovery from bottom surgery and retelling the story of their assault. That toying with perspective and reliability of a narrative was really cool. I also always live to hear trans people talk about their relationship to being t4t even if I don't relate to their reasoning, so the meditation on transamory and chaserism and t4t was really interesting.
I overall really recommend this to people who like experimentalish prose / memoir, but don't go into it expecting an essay collection you're used to.
(They used per the bio in the back of the book, sorry if that's an outdated pronoun set)
April 2, 2025
Gender / Fucking by Florence Ashley
Is transecting
This book was wonderful. I adored Ashley’s writing and the intertwining of smut and highbrow thought pieces both of which were highly personal. The knowledge of Ashley’s prodigious career and accolades almost lends a sort of “respectability” to what is clearly good smut! Instead the reader can pretend it’s really a study in sex - sort of Kinsey porn.
When taken together- as they are written to be - Ashley starts to show the reader how sex (the physical act et al.) permeates the mundane world. Be it our relationships, lecture halls, work, and even self beliefs/ limitations. I think it’s a truth not universally acknowledged by most that those of us that are not for whom the world was made for or by, have similar questions about ourselves. Ashley explores their position in a very aware way. A way that some of us will find common and others find exhausting because they’ve never had to think what makes me ME, and if I don’t have X will I still be me, or belong to my community. The very idea of transversing identities or being a codeswitching person is alien to some.
Although Ashley and I are not similar, (they are a jurist for god sake and a bottom), I found the text extremely relatable and unique enough to keep me very engaged and interested in their thought processes/ justifications. I never would have thought completing bottom surgery would result in someone every feeling less trans. Nor would I have thought the act of sex or nudity being more taboo than racism, sexism etc in the highest court in Canada.
There are numerous quotes from this book that are worth meditating on. Particularly the one about bridges. I feel Ashley’s work or this book could be used well for someone trying to balance their own transition to their true person, be it career, queerness, sexual desire, or the body.
This book is for anyone who enjoys gender studies, general smut, personal essays and memoirs. Also the cover is perfect!
Read with care as some passages may be triggering.
Is transecting
This book was wonderful. I adored Ashley’s writing and the intertwining of smut and highbrow thought pieces both of which were highly personal. The knowledge of Ashley’s prodigious career and accolades almost lends a sort of “respectability” to what is clearly good smut! Instead the reader can pretend it’s really a study in sex - sort of Kinsey porn.
When taken together- as they are written to be - Ashley starts to show the reader how sex (the physical act et al.) permeates the mundane world. Be it our relationships, lecture halls, work, and even self beliefs/ limitations. I think it’s a truth not universally acknowledged by most that those of us that are not for whom the world was made for or by, have similar questions about ourselves. Ashley explores their position in a very aware way. A way that some of us will find common and others find exhausting because they’ve never had to think what makes me ME, and if I don’t have X will I still be me, or belong to my community. The very idea of transversing identities or being a codeswitching person is alien to some.
Although Ashley and I are not similar, (they are a jurist for god sake and a bottom), I found the text extremely relatable and unique enough to keep me very engaged and interested in their thought processes/ justifications. I never would have thought completing bottom surgery would result in someone every feeling less trans. Nor would I have thought the act of sex or nudity being more taboo than racism, sexism etc in the highest court in Canada.
There are numerous quotes from this book that are worth meditating on. Particularly the one about bridges. I feel Ashley’s work or this book could be used well for someone trying to balance their own transition to their true person, be it career, queerness, sexual desire, or the body.
This book is for anyone who enjoys gender studies, general smut, personal essays and memoirs. Also the cover is perfect!
Read with care as some passages may be triggering.
March 28, 2024
Gender/Fucking is a beautiful, thought provoking and engaging collection of essays, poems and stories.
The author uses their personal accounts to draw parallels to broader academic insights, melding the two with a nuanced philosophical understanding about the world and about oneself. I found the way the author used the theme of exploring one’s sense of self through the means of pleasure fascinating, empowering, and emotional. Ashley’s prose flows from humour to poetry to sharp commentary seamlessly, with a stylistic command of both personal accounts and more academic musings.
Ashley’s concept of “palliative activism” has stuck with me in the past few days that I have finished this book. An acknowledgment that the end is nigh, but one that does not invoke a sense of apathy. Apathy that often creates an environment for more destruction, more pain, more spilt blood to persist. No, Ashley suggests a kinder approach, their love for their community palpable on every page, one that begs persistence even in the name of the apocalypse. I find this idea especially interesting as it sometimes seems we are only offered two options: blind optimism or bitter bitter apathy. I’d like to remember it when the latter threatens to overcome me.
Ashley’s critiques of neoliberal ideologies are peppered throughout; a poignant exploration of capitalism’s effect on the well-being and liberation of trans people, and the ways that these laissez-faire attitudes seep into societal attitudes, whether through “sterilized revolutionary thought” or “so-called allyship.” With both violent and more covert transphobia prevalent within our society, Ashley asks us to question the performativity that seems to permeate our capitalistic culture, to sit in the discomfort that comes from self-reflection, to allow that discomfort to move us beyond ourselves, to allow it to bring about real change: “Sit in the thought before you excuse yourself of it.” Powerful.
The author uses their personal accounts to draw parallels to broader academic insights, melding the two with a nuanced philosophical understanding about the world and about oneself. I found the way the author used the theme of exploring one’s sense of self through the means of pleasure fascinating, empowering, and emotional. Ashley’s prose flows from humour to poetry to sharp commentary seamlessly, with a stylistic command of both personal accounts and more academic musings.
Ashley’s concept of “palliative activism” has stuck with me in the past few days that I have finished this book. An acknowledgment that the end is nigh, but one that does not invoke a sense of apathy. Apathy that often creates an environment for more destruction, more pain, more spilt blood to persist. No, Ashley suggests a kinder approach, their love for their community palpable on every page, one that begs persistence even in the name of the apocalypse. I find this idea especially interesting as it sometimes seems we are only offered two options: blind optimism or bitter bitter apathy. I’d like to remember it when the latter threatens to overcome me.
Ashley’s critiques of neoliberal ideologies are peppered throughout; a poignant exploration of capitalism’s effect on the well-being and liberation of trans people, and the ways that these laissez-faire attitudes seep into societal attitudes, whether through “sterilized revolutionary thought” or “so-called allyship.” With both violent and more covert transphobia prevalent within our society, Ashley asks us to question the performativity that seems to permeate our capitalistic culture, to sit in the discomfort that comes from self-reflection, to allow that discomfort to move us beyond ourselves, to allow it to bring about real change: “Sit in the thought before you excuse yourself of it.” Powerful.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 62 reviews